


Fun Fact #1: Angels Have Feelings

by GraceRB



Series: Fun Facts With Dean and Cas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU where Gadreel isn't an asshole, April the reaper doesn't exist, Dean "i'm in love with my angel best friend" Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, UST but it gets resolved, you're in love but you don't know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceRB/pseuds/GraceRB
Summary: After becoming human, Castiel has to make his way to the bunker alone and on foot. Dean has made a deal with Ezekiel (Gadreel) to possess Sam in order to heal him. Together, the brothers need to fine Cas before he gets caught in the middle of another angel civil war and gets himself killed. For real this time.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel, Sam Winchester & Castiel, Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Gadreel
Series: Fun Facts With Dean and Cas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080128
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	1. The Worst Part

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new series! I have a list of just random prompts and figured I could write some one shots using the same characters. (I got this idea from HolyFuckingHell but their stuff is probably a lot better than mine!) Anyway, i don't know how often new updates will come, but i thought it'd be fun to write some for ya.
> 
> We're staring with #1, but really these are in no particular order. Don't be alarmed if the numbers jump around a lot! Since this is also the beginning to the story, I'm going to make it a bit longer than every other work with a few chapters. Enjoy!

“Alright,” Sam says. “He called from here, right?” 

He points to a location on a map, spread out on the table in front of himself and Dean. Dean nods in response, “Yeah, he said he was at a gas station. There was another angel with him, but, Sam, I told him to get back here. Why can’t he just listen?”

“Dean,” Sam warns. “I’m sure he’s on his way. It’s only been three days. We’ll find him, Dean.”

“Sam, he’s human now, what if he gets hurt?”

“We won’t let that happen, okay?” Sam’s worried expression does nothing to placate. He turns his attention back to the map and draws three circles around one midpoint. “So this is the radius for one day, two days, and three days.” Sam traces each circle on the map, then moves lower to point to another dot he drew. “If he’s traveling every night, it should take him about a week to get here. I think our best bet is to go back to where he started and try to retrace his steps.” 

Dean nods, only half-listening. A little part of him keeps trying to pray to Castiel, but the logic center of his brain knows the new human won’t be able to hear him. Anxiety rides high in his chest. “Is there any way to do that faster? If he’s got angels on his ass, maybe they’re leaving him messages or something.”

Sam nods, clearly already prepared for this question. “I did some digging.”

Dean glares, “Sam you should still be resting up. The Trials --”

“Dean, I’m fine. It’s Cas I'm worried about,” Sam interrupts. He’s already fed up with the stupid ass Trials. He’s fine. Like really, perfectly normal. He’s been losing a little bit of time, but who doesn’t get sidetracked? Besides, he shouldn’t even be at the top of Dean’s list of Things To Worry About. Cas is human, and more importantly, all by himself out there in the world. Dean’s gotta be freaking out. 

Sam looks over to his brother, and sees a strange expression. Dean looks torn, stuck between scared and anxious. He wonders why. Cas is clearly more important, even with the Trials-scare, but Sam is nearly fully recovered. He’s doing much better than he was last week, needing help standing (although he refused it), needing Dean’s homemade Flu Soup (which tastes better than it sounds), and having to wear blankets around his shoulders because he couldn’t keep on a single pound. But just like that, Dean is able to shake his head, silently reassure himself and get back to the task at hand. He points to the map. “Let’s start with cities around where Cas called, see if there’s any angel signs, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. He starts rifling through a small stack of newspaper clippings and printouts from websites. “Last night --” At Dean’s glare, Sam corrects himself, “Yesterday, I found these. Some priests were killed in an ‘unidentifiable manner’, and since that sounded strange, I hacked into the coroner’s office records and guess how the priests were killed?” Sam pauses, but Dean only shakes his head. “Their eyes were burnt out.”

Dean lights up, only for his face to completely fall. “Were there any other bodies? Anyone who could be Cas?” 

Sam shakes his head. “I checked the John Does, they only had two. One was blonde, brown eyes, and the other had red hair and blue eyes.”

“Were there pictures? Did you make sure?” Dean grips Sam’s arm with one hand, very firmly. It might bruise anyone else, or make them flinch away, but Sam merely stands there, unaffected. The Winchesters have a high pain tolerance. 

“Yes, Dean. As far as I know Cas is still alive. I checked out similar reports around that town, and it looks like he’s heading east. Towards us.”

“So he’s coming to the bunker?” 

Sam doesn’t think Dean needs to ask the question, much less hear the answer, but. But this is Cas they’re talking about. “Seems like it,” Sam says quickly, looking back to the map to avoid Dean’s sorrow-filled eyes. “I say we head to the town where the priests were killed, try to talk to some people and see if anyone can point us to Cas.”

Dean nods his agreement and leaves the room. He comes back five minutes later with his bag already packed, stuffing an angel blade into his inner coat pocket. “The drive’s eight hours. I’m leaving now.”

“Dean,” Sam starts to protest, but realizes he has no valid argument. 

“Listen, Sammy, the faster we get there, the faster we can talk to people, and the faster we do that, the closer we can get to Cas and bring him here where it’s _safe_.”

Sam stands there for a minute, just staring at Dean. The logic’s sound, but the emotions behind it are troublesome. Too much to get into right now, especially when Cas could be in danger of getting murdered when it could easily be prevented. Sam huffs through his nose, a resigned little sigh, and shakes his head clear of all the problems he wants to point out in Dean’s thought process. “Okay,” He says simply. “Okay. Let me pack all this stuff up and I’ll meet you in the car.”

-

The searching is the worst part. 

Dean feels like he’s got no leads, no guidance, and despite Sam in the shotgun seat, he feels completely alone on this. It’s not like he can just tell Sam he’s got an angel in him, even if Cas said Ezekiel is one of the good guys. So he can’t talk to Sam.

And now he can’t talk to Cas either. Dean grips Baby’s steering wheel a bit tighter, willing her sturdy frame not to bend under his stress like he is. Next he’ll have gray hairs popping up. He tires to chuckle at himself. A hunter with gray hairs? That should be great news. 

Distractions aren’t helping. Dean can’t stop thinking about Cas. Does he know where to get food? Is he scared to sleep? Where is he sleeping? Does he have any money or is he just wandering around the streets? Does he have enough common sense to stay out of the bad places? 

Dean drives faster. 

He pulls into a motel around three am, gets a room and drags Sam inside to bed. He watches Sam sleep for an hour, trying to read up on the case -- God, Cas is a _case_ now? -- before climbing into his own bed to sleep restlessly for a few hours. 

In the morning, he goes against his better judgement and wakes Sam up extra early. “Hey, let’s go. Breakfast, and then we’re going to where the priests were killed.”

“Okay,” Sam replied groggily. “What time is it?”

Dean pauses. “Six thirty,” he rounds up. He’s tying up his boots, tucking a knife in against his ankle, and wishing motels had money to put coffee makers in all the rooms.

“You’re never up before _eight_ ,” Sam groans. He rolls over, then pushes himself up on his arms, lifting his head slowly. “Do you already know who we need to talk to?”

Dean smiles smugly. “Yep. Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”

Sam makes a bitch face and rolls his eyes. It’s too early for snarky comebacks. He gets out of bed, running a hand through his hair, and takes a quick shower. 

He comes back out in his Fed suit with wet hair. “You gonna catch me up or are we just gonna wing it?”

“We always wing it,” Dean replies, as if his statement is a fact he can’t believe Sam didn’t already know. “But no, I'll tell you everything I found last night as soon as I get some bacon.”

After breakfast, Dean and Sam drive over to the church where the priests were found. They talk to a few people, but they clearly don’t have the answers Dean is looking for. He grumbles around, standing next to the crime scene tape, wishing Cas could still hear prayers. 

Then suddenly, a helpful man nods to Dean. “You here about the priests?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods half-heartedly. 

“You know, my friend Clarence found them. He was real scared. Bolted just a few hours ago.”

Sam and Dean look at each other, then back at the man. Together, they say, “Clarence?”

“Yeah. He came here two days ago. Did some work to get a bed, but this morning he was gone when I woke up.” 

Dean mentally kicks himself. If he’d just left sooner, they could have caught Cas before he left. “What does Clarence look like?”

“Are you looking for him? Is he in trouble?” The man asks, his voice quickly turning more worried. “He didn’t hurt those priests, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I swe --”

“Look,” Dean cuts in. “We’re actually his friends. We’re trying to protect him. Now you said he left this morning. Got any idea where he went?”

“Not really. He said he was heading east, though. The next town with a shelter like this is sixty or seventy miles down the highway. I think he went there.”

Dean sighs with some relief. They’re getting closer. So close. “Thanks.”

“I hope you find him. He’s a good guy.”

Dean nods. “Yeah.” 

He stands there silently for a few moments before Sam pulls him away, back to the car. Luckily they packed up their shit already so when Dean gets behind the wheel, he starts heading to the highway. Sixty or seventy miles? He can make that in forty five minutes, easy. 

Sam doesn’t say a thing. 

-

Turns out, the next shelter is in a bigger city. Busy sidewalks and streets, trains, and buses roar around, enough to make any newcomer wince. Dean can’t imagine how overwhelmed Castiel must feel. How alone.

They’re only a few hours behind, and the pouring rain outside maes Dean hope Castiel is still around somewhere. Hopefully under shelter. Hopefully not starving to death.

He feels frustrated tears rise up in the back of his throat but he just grips the wheel tighter and follows Sam’s directions to the shelter. Once there, they find a group of workers and ask them questions. Dean describes Castiel as best he can, shorter than him, dark hair, blue eyes -- Sam adds that he might have been calling himself Clarence. 

Only one guy speaks up. Everyone else thinks Sam and Dean are cops. “I saw him early this morning. Said he was looking for work to make some money. Said he needed to go east.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Dean asks, trying to keep his eagerness on a tight leash. 

“I saw him a few blocks that way, looking for food.”

Dean jumps at that, following the guy’s finger down the street. Dean _runs_. He stops in every alleyway, and yells, “Cas!”

After five or six buildings, after empty alley next to empty alley, Dean stops running when he sees a body. Please don’t be dead.

He runs straight in, despite Sam’s feeble attempt at a warning, “Dean!” 

Dean draws the angel blade from his jacket just to be sure, taking great care to check his surroundings before approaching thebody. It’s prone, in a puddle, face turned to the side. Eyes closed and breathing is fast. Really fast. Dean kneels down, getting one hand under a shoulder to flip the guy over. Despite the scratched face and longer stubble, Dean would know this face anywhere. “Cas,” He breathes. 

The eyes open ever so slightly, the lips part, but no sound comes out. 

Dean puts away his blade, and grabs Cas by both shoulders, sitting him up against the wall. First he notices that all of Cas’s clothes are soaking wet, like someone just pushed him in a pool. Second, Cas’s eyes have closed again and he’s just slumped against the wall, entirely too pliant for Dean’s liking. Third, his face is unnaturally red, and not just because it hardly ever has any color on it. 

Tentatively, Dean puts his hand on Castiel’s forehead. He whips his head up to look at Sam. “He’s burning up,” Dean whispers, and those tears fight their way into his eyes again.


	2. The Even Worse Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Castiel home. Castiel isn't waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter two! There will be one more after this, and then it's over! These characters will be featured in other works in this new series, but this is all for now. Thanks for reading. Don't forget to comment!

Dean scoops Castiel up into his arms. The angel’s body is now too light, and not at all thrumming with that power it usually has. Dean lets the rain hide his tears. He turns to Sam, “Get the car. We’re taking him home.”

Sam nods, and with one lingering look at Castiel, limp in Dean’s arms, he runs out of the alley and down the street. 

Dean stands, hauling Cas up with him, and makes sure to carefully cradle his head in the crook of his elbow. Cas’s eyes open gently and only half way, and he mumbles, “I’m not stealing. I’m not stealing.”

“I know, Cas,” Dean looks down at him. He drops to his knees again to shift Cas’s body, putting one of Cas’s arms around his shoulders. “Hey, grab onto me, Cas. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Dean?” Castiel’s eyes try their hardest to focus, and his hands grab on tightly to Dean’s jacket. “Take me to him, I’m not stealing.”

“I’m here, Cas,” Dean lifts him up again and walks out to the street, where Sam is pulling up to the sidewalk. “Sam lets go home. Drive fast,” Dean practically orders, getting into the backseat with Cas. 

“Where,” Cas mumbles, and Dean looks back to him. “Where are we going? Where’s Dean?”

“I’m here, it’s okay, Cas. Sleep.”

Castiel drowsily nods and hugs Dean’s thigh, then closes his eyes. “Okay,” He says quietly. 

The entire drive back, thankfully shortened to just over six hours with Sam’s speedy and self-proclaimed reckless driving, Dean holds Cas. Dean has got his arms carefully holding Castiel’s chest down against the seat, making sure he isn’t jostled too much. One of Dean’s hands is over Castiel’s heart -- Dean tells himself it just happened to kand there, but really, he’s making sure it’s still beating. 

Sam doesn’t say a goddamn thing.

Dean’s eyes stay on Castiel’s face. Breathing is still too fast, especially since Cas is asleep. If anything, his breathing should slower, but -- Dean is freaking out. Definitely freaking out. He’s bruising Cas’s shoulder too, because his grip is very strong there. Cas is wincing but he’s too weak to even try to push Dean off. 

Dean doesn’t cry. At least, he doesn’t let Sam see. 

He hides his face against Cas’s neck, pressed into skin that’s too hot, and he whispers. Praying to Cas (even though he can’t hear prayers anymore) and whispering into his ear at the same time. “Please, please wake up, Cas. Please be okay.”

Castiel just pants in response. He must be dreaming. 

When the car finally stops, they’re in the garage in the bunker. Dean gets out first and drags Cas out with him, and after a little shuffling, he’s got one arm around Cas’s back, and the other under his knees. He takes Cas to the Infirmary room inside, and places him on one of the beds. Tucks him in and everything. 

Dean sits next to him, all night. One hand grasps tightly around Castiel’s, and the other rests on his forehead. Sam comes and goes, sitting around for a little while before going to make himself some dinner. He comes back and eats next to Cas’s bed. 

Dean keeps his eyes on Cas, hoping he’ll wake up. Three hours in, he stands. “I’m gonna make him some soup,” Dean announces. “Sammy, do  _ not _ take your eyes off him, alright? I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Sam nods, but stays out of Dean’s seat, leaving Cas’s hand empty. It’s not his place to hold that hand, so he just periodically touches Castiel’s forehead to gauge temperature. The skin still feels hot, but the breathing has slowed to more of a deep sleep kind of rhythm. 

In the kitchen, Dean works quickly. He makes enough soup for at least five meals for all three of them (what can he say, industrial sized pots demand to be filled all the way) and puts it into containers in the fridge. He gets back to the infirmary with a bowl in hand and a glass of water. 

Sam leaves and Dean fusses over Cas. He gets him into a semi-conscious state to sit him up, then slowly feeds him spoonfuls of soup. At first Cas sputters and doesn’t eat, but the more Dean pushes, the more Castiel’s body responds. 

“You’re all right, Cas.”

“Where’s Dean?” Cas still can’t open his eyes all the way. “Get him for me.”

“I’m right here, Cas,” Dean says. Why can’t Cas see it’s him? “I’m right here. Just eat, for now, then you can rest.”

“My… my head hurts,” Castiel rubs weakly at his forehead with one hand. “I think this is helping.”

“Good, good. Sleep, Cas. You’ll feel better.”

-

Castiel wakes up in a bed. A warm bed. 

He jolts up, opening his eyes and looking around to make sure he’s not dead or hurt. This place, it looks familiar. It’s the infirmary. He’s in the bunker! He looks to his side, and there’s a man hunched over the bed, holding one of Castiel’s hands and sleeping with his face hidden in his forearms. 

Castiel blinks.  _ Dean _ . Dean is sleeping next to him. Dean is holding his hand. Please let this be real. He tentatively reaches to shake Dean’s shoulder. “Dean?”

Dean lifts his head, and it’s immediately obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red and a little puffy, but he blinks the bleariness of sleep away and his face lights up. “Oh thank god,” he surges forward and pulls Castiel closer and kisses him. He puts his fingers in Castiel’s hair and pulls away. “Are you okay? Please never do that again.”

Dean sits back in his chair and Castiel is mildly surprised. “Alright,” He promises. He licks his lips and tastes what must be Dean. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“You kissed me.”

“What? No I didn’t!” Dean blushes.

“Yes, you did,” Castiel nods. “It was pleasant. Please do it again.”

Dean blushes a little harder. “Fine. Lay back down and I’ll show you something.”

Castiel does as Dean asks, “What exactly is this ‘something’?”

Dean rolls his eyes and throws a leg over Castiel’s. He sort of kneels so that his knees are pressed into Castiel’s sides, then leans forward with his hands on either side of Castiel’s shoulders. Then his arms wrap around Castiel, and he kisses him like he deserves.

Then Dean gets up, leaving Castiel on his back, breathless and looking at him like he just discovered what chocolate tastes like. “There. See you later.”

Then Dean leaves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a question. Is Dean an asshole? 
> 
> That is all. Have a wonderful day/night.


	3. The Better Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas get stuck in some handcuffs. (Not in the sexy way.)

Sam knocks on Dean’s bedroom door. 

It’s been about a week since Castiel woke up from his fever induced sleep. Sam is very very annoyed. 

Every time he’s in the same room with Dean and Castiel, he can’t help but cringe. They stare at each other but say nothing. It’s clear they want to -- ugh, gross -- jump each other’s bones but for some dumb reason they aren’t. Sam really hates all the tension. It stresses him out, and there’s only so much distracting he can do. 

Dean opens his bedroom door. “What?” 

Sam smiles. Politely. “Can you come with me for a second?”

Dean is immediately suspicious. “Why?”

Sam makes a bitch face. “An elephant made camp in the dungeon,” He deadpans, then slaps Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, it’ll take two seconds.”

Dean grumbles. “Fine.”

Sam leads Dean to the records room, then opens the dungeon doors but keeps the light off. “Give me your hand,” Sam says. When Dean takes too long, Sam grabs his hand anyway. Then there’s a small metallic clink of handcuffs closing. 

The light turns on and Dean sees that he’s standing next to Cas, who is sitting on the floor eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He’s handcuffed to a bar above his head, and his hand dangles uselessly above him. 

“Come on,” Dean yells at Sam. “Seriously? What did we do?”

Sam rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “I’ll give you the keys after you talk. I can’t stand the sexual tension staring for another second.” He turns to leave, and closes one door. “Please, just talk to each other.”

Then the other door closes, and Cas and Dean are alone.

Dean sits too, back against the wall and arm stuck above him. “You wanna start?”

Cas finishes his sandwich and copies Dean’s position, leaning back against the wall with legs stretched out. “Is there really anything to say? You clearly were just -- You didn’t mean to do it. So you didn’t mean it.”

“Look, I’m sorry I kissed you. If you want it to mean nothing, then it means nothing.”

Castiel looks at Dean sharply. “Does that mean it  _ does _ mean something to you?” 

Dean looks away. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. You deserve better than me.”

“It isn’t about deserve.”

“What?” Dean asks, looking at Castiel once again. 

“It isn’t about deserve. It’s about want.”

Dean furrows his brows. “You  _ want _ better than me?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “No! I want  _ you _ !” 

“Really?”

“Yes,” Castiel says firmly. Then he adds, “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

Dean tilts his head in a question. “How long?”

“Since I pulled you out of Hell, I think. That’s when it started.”

Dean freezes. “Cas, that was five years ago. You didn’t think to tell me about this for _five_ _years_?!” 

“You didn’t say anything either!”

“I thought you couldn’t feel things like Sam and I can!”

“Well, I can.”

“Great! Thanks for telling me!” Dean yells. He pauses for a moment and looks out across the room. Quietly, he adds, “Maybe I’m in love with you.”

“Maybe  _ I’m _ in love with  _ you _ .” 

Dean looks over at Cas. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.”

Dean leans past his arm, still stuck above him in the handcuffs, and uses his free hand to touch the side of Castiel’s face. He chuckled lightly to himself, as his thumb rubs Cas’s cheekbone idly. “Did Sam really bribe you with a PB and J?”

“Yes,” Castiel says honestly. “I like them very much.”

Dean chuckles again. “Come here,” He says quietly, and leans further forward. 

This kiss is different from the first. To Castiel, it feels more deliberate. It’s more similar to the second kiss, except this has more honesty behind it. It’s slower too, like Dean wants to take his time with it. It’s more special.

Both silently agree to remember this as their first kiss. 

-

Sam comes back twenty minutes later, when he decides it must be safe. Even then, he only opens the door a little and throws the handcuff keys to Dean. He decided earlier that he never wanted to ask what happened in that room. 

Dean and Cas walk out together, shirts unbuttoned only a little and necks red -- IS THAT A BITE MARK? -- but Sam really doesn’t want to know. “Whatever happened in there,” Sam says, turning off the light. “I really don’t want to know.”

Cas blushes. Dean just smirks. “You’re the boss, Sammy.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last chapter! Don't worry, you will see these characters again!


End file.
